Walt placed the cigarette between his lips, gripped Morgan’s hand in return, and asked, “Disappointed?”
“Pleasantly surprised.”
Doc Harper came into the room. “Don’t let him fool you, he still has some recovering to do, but he’ll mend.”
“Good. I’ve been trying to give his job away but can’t find anybody dumb enough to take it.”
“Not even you?”
“Especially me,” Morgan said. “I’m getting married today.”
“Took my advice, did you?”
“Had nothing to do with you, Walt. Came to the decision myself.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself, but I planted that seed and I’m here to see it bloom.” Walt swung his legs over the side of the bed and set his feet on the floor. Behind a grimace, he said, “Hand me my shirt.”
“Walt, you need to stay put,” Doc said.
“You’re taking me over to Mollie’s later anyhow. We might as well go on and go, ‘cause I intend to be the one to give her away.”
Morgan shared the doc’s frustration at the man’s stubbornness. While he understood Walt wanting to have control over his life, he also understood Doc’s concerns. “Walt, our plans are to be married in the preacher’s parlor. Doc doesn’t want you to be jostled around that much.”
“I get it,” Walt said, “But I’m not going to let a couple of stitches—”
“Doc!”
Morgan followed Doc Harper to the main room that served as Doc’s reception and found the preacher standing just inside.
Doc closed the door and asked, “What’s wrong, Ellis?”
“I’m glad you’re here, Doc. Mary’s got a high fever, can you come over right away?”
“I’ll grab my bag.”
“Ellis, I’m sorry about Mary,” Morgan said. He could tell by the look on the man’s face he was worried about his wife. “Don’t worry about the ceremony this afternoon. We’ll get with you in a few days when she’s feeling better.”
“I appreciate that, I—”
“Nonsense!” Mollie said firmly as she bustled into the room. “Let’s wait for Doc to say what’s wrong with Mary, before you two go off and ruin the afternoon.
“Now, Ellis go with Doc to check on your wife. Morgan, you help me get Walt over to the Mollie B.”
He followed her to the back of the office. “Look, I’d rather not postpone our plans, but we may have to.”
Mollie stopped, turned, and took hold of his arm. “Listen to me,” she said, her tone low and stern. “That girl has been dressing since you left the house. You’ll be married today, if you have to join the Methodist church to have the Pastor perform the ceremony.”
“We’ll see.” Morgan matched Mollie glare for glare. Her defense and support of her ladyship was admirable, but she was pushing him too hard, and he’d become very good at planting his feet.
Although, she had given him another small insight into Lady Anne Medvale. Little by little, he was chipping away at her armor and he found, increasingly, he was looking forward to discovering the woman beneath the façade.
Chapter 7
Morgan walked into the living room to check the clock on the mantle just as Doc Harper came through the front door.
“Doc, how’s Mary?”
“She’s doing better after we got some of the covers off her. I think all the quilts were holding in the heat making her hotter,” he said. “I gave her some aspirin and her temperature has already lowered.”
“That’s good news.” Morgan took the medical bag, as Doc shrugged out of his coat.
“Yes, but I still don’t know for sure what’s ailing her and, as long as she has a fever, she’s contagious.”
Morgan started thinking of an alternative plan for the ceremony, one that didn’t involve him joining another church, when the front door opened, and the preacher walked inside carrying his Bible.
Doc quickly asked, “Ellis? Is Mary all right?”
“She’s some better, thanks to you and the Lord,” Ellis said and grinned. “She told me to stop bothering her and get to work. Morgan, I’ve been thinking, though, the church building is cold, and the stove is broken. I don’t know if I can get it fixed today.”
Mollie came into the room, hands on her hips, and said, “Don’t overthink it gentlemen, we’ll have it at the Mollie B.”
“You’ve done enough, Mollie. I don’t want to put you out.”
“Nonsense, I’ve put together a small reception, and your bride’s already there, it simply makes sense. Now, if y’all can get Walt over to the house before he does it under his own steam, I’d appreciate it.”
A short time later, when they’d gotten Walt over to the boarding house, Morgan saw Mollie was right. The dry warmth from the fireplace chased February’s damp chill. Ribbons adorned the mantle and a few chairs had been added to the parlor. A cake sat on the dining room table, as did Mollie’s prized silver tea service.
“What do you think?” Mollie said, as she set out plates beside the forks and spoons.
“I think it’s a lot of fuss, but then none of this is about me.”
“I always said you were a smart man.” She stood back a short distance, looked at the table, and said, “I’m going upstairs to check on your bride. Gather everyone into the parlor, would you? And don’t forget your coat, I loaned you one of Bert’s and hung it on the back of Walt’s chair.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He made the observation that he was glad Mollie was on his side for he wouldn’t want to have her as an enemy. She ruled everything in her path. He thought about the thing that currently controlled him, his job as a deputy marshal while Walt’s shoulder was on the mend.
So far, today, the other deputies had been able to keep the town quiet. He hoped the peace continued through the ceremony and reception, but the back of his neck itched and that never meant anything good.
Anne looked up through the lace scarf anchored in her hair with hairpins to see Mollie in the mirror’s reflection when she opened the door and entered the room carrying a box. She turned around slowly so Mollie could see the results of Iris’s efforts.
“What do you think?”
Mollie set the box on the bed and then held out the silk, organdy, and lace trimmed skirt. “I think Morgan Grant is going to swallow his tongue. Anne, you are absolutely breathtaking.”
Wouldn’t that be a sight to behold?
Aloud, she said, “All the credit goes to Iris. She is deftly adept at turning a sow’s ear into a silk purse.”
“Well, dear, I hardly think that applies to you.” Mollie removed the lid to the box and said, “I don’t know how you’re fixed for old, new, borrowed, or blue, but I do know the flower situation in this town. Would these work for old or borrowed?”
Anne took the bouquet of flowers from Mollie, gently touching the hand tatted petals nestled among green silk ribbons. “These are so beautiful, Mollie. Where did you get them?”
“It was dead of winter when Bert and I married putting us in the same predicament as you. My grandmother made my bouquet for me.”
“These make a perfect borrow, I will be honored to carry them.” She hugged her new friend, and then said, “The pearls Iris used in my hair and on my ears, are from my grandmother, so that would be old, and the lace gloves are new. That leaves blue and a sixpence for my shoe.”
“I have it.” Iris went to the trunk and pulled out a length of sky-blue satin ribbon. “Here, my lady. Shall I tie this around your waist?”
“Yes,” Anne said. “This marriage has enough going against it, I’d rather not jinx it further.” When that was done, she asked, “How far is it to the preacher’s house? I have on my day shoes, due to the mud, and I’ll need help holding up the hem, so my dress doesn’t get ruined.”
“Oh!” Mollie raised her hand to her cheek. “In all the hub-bub going on downstairs, I forgot to tell you. You’ll be married here in the parlor, and if you don’t mind, Walt would like to give you
away.”
Anne’s eyes welled with tears at the sweet gesture. Her throat tightened, but she managed to say, “How lovely.”
While she sat on the stool to change her shoes, Mollie dug into her pocket and handed Anne a coin. “Here, I don’t have a silver sixpence for good fortune and prosperity, but I do have a copper penny.”
“That will do nicely.” Anne took the coin, slipped it into her satin slipper, and stood. Looking from one woman to the next, she said, “I guess I’m ready.”
Morgan turned toward the stairs when the guests let out a collective gasp. Lady Anne Medvale was a vision in white froth. He knew she’d been coming here to get married so he shouldn’t be surprised, but the wedding dress caught him off guard.
She continued toward him, stopping beside Walt’s chair. The injured marshal stood, walked the couple of steps to where Morgan waited, and placed her hand in his. With a nod to Ellis, he reclaimed his seat.
Her hand visibly shook giving him the impression that, if he let go, she would fly into a million pieces. So, he held fast, squeezing her fingers to ground her.
Ellis whispered, “Are we ready?”
Morgan snagged her glance. “Anne?”
She looked at him and then Ellis, and said, “Yes.”
Ellis placed his hand atop theirs and began the ceremony. “Folks, you’re gathered here to witness the marriage between Morgan Grant and Anne Medvale. If there are no objections, we’ll begin.” He looked around the small room and hearing none, he said, “Repeat after me:
"Will you, Anne, have Morgan, to be your husband? Will you love him, comfort and keep him, and forsaking all others, remain true to him as long as you both shall live?"
"I will."
Morgan reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a ring. He placed it on the ring finger of her left hand and repeated the words Ellis said.
"With this ring, I thee wed, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow. In sickness and in health, in poverty or in wealth, till death do us part."
“I now pronounce you man and wife. Morgan, you may kiss your bride.”
Morgan slowly lifted the lace veil and wondered if he should kiss her. He ran the risk of upsetting her no matter which choice he made.
She leaned in and said quietly, “It’s quite all right. I understand if you would rather not kiss me.”
He rested his hands on her shoulders, angled his mouth over hers, and whispered, “It’s my honor.”
Anne immediately felt his absence when he broke their kiss. She braced herself on his arm, not realizing she had leaned into him.
“Are you all right?”
She glanced up at him when he spoke to her. Hearing the concern in his voice, she said, “I am, I’m just . . .”
“Rattled?”
She saw the mischief in his eyes and the up tilt of his mouth at the corner and knew he was teasing her, trying to get a response from her. Well, she’d had a response all right. For the second time in two days, heat coursed throughout her body. But Morgan Grant had confidence oozing from his ears and she refused to feed his ego. She smiled and answered him before she melted into a puddle at his feet.
“No, I’m hungry. I’ve been thinking about Mollie’s cake and finger sandwiches since before I came downstairs.”
He seemed to only miss a half-beat before saying, “Then, we should get you to the table without delay. I’ve already had to carry you once this week.”
The scoundrel. Was he now insinuating she was too heavy? Why the last time she knew, she was barely 8 stone 8. She came close to letting him have it and then she noticed his barely-there grin, just as their guests gathered around them. In the future, she would need to learn to read his face for his mood. That would save both of them from an embarrassing tongue lashing.
Mollie interrupted the ladies and their questions about Anne’s dress when she said, “Why don’t we go to the dining room for the reception? I’d like Anne to see we have some manners in this oil swamp we call a town.”
“Now, Mollie,” Anne said, “I’d like to think most people aren’t defined by where they are from, even me.”
“That’s the truth, for certain.” As she ushered the women into the dining room, she glanced behind her and said, “Morgan? Bring the men in, too.”
Anne gasped as she saw the table Mollie had decorated. Her beautiful silver service anchored the table setting, with the cake sitting front and center. The teapot, hand painted with lavender flowers, was nestled to one side among matching cups and saucers. Similarly-patterned dessert plates, along with silver forks and spoons flanked to the left.
Iris entered the room from the kitchen carrying a tray with small sandwiches. She set them on a serving table, smiled, and said, “Congratulations, my lady.”
“Thank you.” Anne hugged her. The friendly gesture was almost never done by a Medvale, especially with a maid or other servant, but she and Iris had become so much more to each other. “I don’t know when you had time to help with all of this. Apparently, your talents truly are limitless.”
Iris smiled. “It was nothing at all, my lady.”
Mollie clapped her hands. “Anne, dear, if you and Morgan would cut the cake?”
Anne picked up the knife, and when Morgan made no move toward her, she whispered, “You are supposed to help me do this.”
“Why?”
“It is a tradition. Cutting the cake together symbolizes our commitment to each other.”
He placed his hand over hers on the knife handle, slipped his left arm around her waist, and whispered into her ear, “Like this?”
She didn’t know why he affected her the way he did. Perhaps it was his warm breath in her ear that sent cool shivers down her neck and spine or the intimate way he looked into her eyes, like they were the only two people in the room. Whatever the reason, it took all the control she had to keep her hand from trembling beneath his. Would she always react this way to his touch?
“It’s all right, Anne,” he whispered. “I’m committed to you and I’ll always protect you.”
After the last guest had been served, Walt lifted his cup and said, “A toast to the newlyweds. Congratulations, Anne, and Morgan, on this special day. As you embark on this new journey together, always keep in mind that your first duty to each other is to listen. Love will find its way.”
“Thanks, Walt. We—”
“Boom!”
Before Morgan finished his response, the loudest explosion Anne had ever heard rocked the house. Everyone standing, either dropped or were knocked to the floor by the blast. A second blast followed, its report louder than the first.
Morgan was the first to regain his feet, with the others responding soon after. He pulled her into his arms and said, “Stay here with Mollie and Walt. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
With a quick kiss to her forehead, he was gone. She stood in the middle of shattered chandelier glass and the shards from the broken dishes. She said a quick prayer for everyone outside that may have been injured and wondered if Morgan would come back to her. Would she be a widow on the same day she became a bride?
Chapter Eight
Morgan saw nothing but flames and billowing black and grey smoke when he ran out to the front yard of the boarding house. As he sprinted toward the depot, he realized an oil rig had exploded and the fire was threatening everything in its path, including two other wells and the Mollie B. He didn’t have to go far before he encountered the town’s volunteer firefighters and others running toward the fire.
Another of Walt’s deputies, Bob Allen, stopped him and, shouting over the roar of the fire, said, “I’m headed to get folks out of the buildings on this end of town.” He pointed over his shoulder. “Bill’s gathering folks into the church sanctuary, and Ted’s working on keeping the peace. What else do you want us to do?”
“Keep going,” he said cupping his hands around his mouth, so he’d be heard. “I’m going back to Mollie’s and clear the house!”
He ch
oked and gasped his way to the Mollie B. Each step he took brought the flames nearer so that it looked like the back of the house was fully engulfed. When he burst through the front door, the living and dining room looked exactly as he’d left them, except no one appeared to be in the house.
“Anne? Mollie? Walt?” He called all their names but got no response. He breathed easier and headed to the back of the house through the kitchen where he saw all the windows had been blown out. When he hit the back steps, he realized the house wasn’t on fire. Not yet, at least. However, the sight that greeted him was heart wrenching.
Walt, using his good arm, was digging a trench a short distance from the fence line from the property, Mollie stood in the middle of several buckets, some with water, some empty. Neither Anne or Iris were in sight.
Running up to Mollie, he shouted, “Where are Anne and Iris?”
“Down by the creek getting water. We’ve got to keep the house from burning!”
He knew the probable devastating outcome, and so did she. But she was so intent on saving her house, she couldn’t see the futility of their actions.
“Mollie!” he said grabbing her by the shoulders. “Stop! Grab Walt and wait for me out in front on the street.”
“But I have to . . .?” Her voice trailed off as she looked from the house to the fire.
“You can’t save her.” When she looked up at him, he said, “Now do what I told you and wait for me out front. I’ll get the girls.”
Before she could answer, Iris reached them dragging two half-full buckets beside her. “Oh, Marshal Grant! Saints preserve us, you’re here.”
“Where’s Anne?”
Picking up two empty buckets, she said, “She’s in the creek scooping out the water. I have to get these to her.”
He took the buckets from her and tossed them to the side. “Go with Mollie, now. I’ll get Anne.”
The path was muddy and slick from the water Iris had spilled, and he came close to joining Anne in the middle of the creek. Still wearing her wedding dress, she stood in ankle deep water, mud on her face and her backside. At that moment, amidst the chaos surrounding them, he’d never seen a more bedraggled lady or a more appealing woman. He offered her his hand.
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